


Surfing the Stars

by Capricorn_Stellium



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capricorn_Stellium/pseuds/Capricorn_Stellium
Summary: While the Lost Light is having a much needed maintenance and repairs day, some members of the crew take the opportunity to relax and have some fun.Rodimus breaks out his board and surfs the comet cluster nearby, while Megatron tries to get some writing done... Right up until Drift catches him staring out the view port.[Day Four of MegaRod Week 2020, Prompt: Moon]
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Megarod Week





	Surfing the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Drug use warning, because Drift is a hippie. It’s nothing serious, just want to give a heads up that he takes some of his Ratchet-approved meditational aid substance intended for religious purposes a little liberally on days he doesn’t need to be on command duty. 
> 
> Also, I'm in the UK, so I'm sorry if this comes across as posted a bit early; It's already day four of MegaRod Week where I'm at!

Rodimus loved comet surfing. 

It wasn't something Megatron particularly approved of; It was dangerous, with abrupt flares and natural gravitational alterations between bodies of mass floating in space resulting in unpredictable upticks in solar winds and the sudden closing of viable paths between the clusters that could cause significant if not fatal damage if one were to slam into anything at speed. 

But telling Rodimus to slow down and be careful was a fruitless endeavour. A speedster to the core, his spark roared at the opportunity. Far be it from Megatron to tell him no. 

Especially as the Lost Light kept the command staff busy with constant incidents popping up- It was beneficial to allow the captain some off board time to fool around and work out some pent up energy. 

The Lost Light was stationed for the time being around the moon of Caltrex Seven, a relatively small planet with asteroid fields on a fairly consistent orbit, in order to perform some hull repairs and other basic maintenance. It was as good an opportunity as any to let the command and crew relax a bit and allow for some touch-ups here and there to ensure a smoother and marginally safer ride for a while longer before another stop in dead space would need to be made. 

After some discussion and further internal debate, Megatron agreed to let today be a wash in terms of more serious duties, and agreed to let everyone on board take time to enjoy a personal day. 

A real opportunity to relax like this was rare; If there wasn't some fresh chaos in Swerve's, then it was some kind of panic in the med bay, or it was Ultra Magnus barging into the command office with some terrified bot tucked under one arm and a citation form already filled and waiting for filing and final approval over some relatively trivial thing, or Drift once again having ingested ever so slightly too much of his meditational substances resulting in a wide-eyed trance and vaguely mysterious ramblings about visions and colours and all their various meanings while a furious Ratchet shouted at anyone within audial range, despite him being the one who somewhat begrudgingly supplied Drift with the ever so carefully formulated and measured substance in the first place in accordance with Spectralist meditational practices and strictly for no other use and also Velocity is not allowed to touch it. (Megatron didn't know why, but was smart enough not to ask.) 

As much as he loved Rodimus and worried ever so slightly about the possibility of a comet collision, it was good for both of them to have some time to just do as they please. 

For Megatron, it satisfied him to get some writing time in, a few short poems and some new essays that he could disconnect from his revolutionary works that had ultimately led to centuries of suffering, although some small part of him understood that without it all, society would still be fractured into class distinction and ruled by a corrupt senate. He elected not to think upon it further at the moment, about how nothing was preventing such corruption and societal rot from one day setting in again, about all the loss and genuine evil that had to occur to get to where things are today... He was tired of guilt, although he'd never be free of it. 

This was supposed to be a day off from the grind, but Megatron had always struggled to relax. When he was younger, it had been the stress of mining work, the perpetual fear of death down some dark shaft or the perpetual exhaustion of the work sending him directly into recharge without the energon left in his systems to manage anything else before waking to another day of toiling away for the energon crystals that ran the glorious cities he would never see the light of... 

No matter what, his thoughts always seemed to return to sad things, disturbing things, regretful things. He was tired of the past. It exhausted him. 

Frustrated, he walked over to the view port in his hab suite, the one he now shared with Rodimus, much to the extreme concern of Ultra Magnus who firmly believed that the highest ranking members of the crew should be in separate lodgings should something occur that trapped them in their quarters, or any other number of scenarios he could think up while furiously referencing the Autobot Code in an attempt to further legitimise his consternation. 

The thought put a small smile on Megatron's faceplate, which became a full-blown grin as he caught a glimpse of Rodimus comet surfing through the view port. 

Rodimus, clearly enjoying himself and evidently unafraid of the drain on his fuel reserves, was fully ignited and spitting flames into the vacuum of space, where they were quickly snuffed but still provided a glow of fire around him. The ones that clung ever so slightly around his helm resembled a halo against the dark field of stars behind him. As he glided in front of the moon, the red and yellow silhouette of flames lapped around his body as he struck a truly ridiculous but highly endearing pose and looked directly at Megatron through the glass of the view port, grinning as though it was the happiest he'd ever been. 

It was certainly the happiest Megatron had ever been. 

The moment was brief but preserved in Megatron's memory forever, as he immediately committed it to his long term storage. He didn't want to forget hardly any moment on board the Lost Light, as wild and as bizarre as the entire journey had been, and was going to be forever... As long as they could make forever go on for. Exploring the unknown universe was certainly sure to take some time. 

Refusing to let his thoughts potentially lead him once more down a darker path, he turned to reach for his data pad in a moment of inspiration, aiming to write a short piece ignited by Rodimus' flames, only to find a visibly zoned out Drift standing in the doorway behind him. 

It was a sign of the times, that someone he had once known only as a proficient and ruthless general of his conquering army was now able to sneak comfortably behind him without him even noticing. 

It worried him, that he was able to be so distracted by Rodimus, but decided to brush the concern away in favour of focusing on Drift.

"My door was locked. Surely you have better things to do than speak to your co-captain on a rare day off." Megatron spoke a bit slower than usual, unsure of how far gone Drift might be. He was aware that Drift had substance abuse issues in his past; There had been rumours to such effect going far back; It only slightly bothered him that he hadn't known about that during the war, but the war was over. Regrets remained in the past. It was the only way to move forward. He trusted Drift to know his limits; If Rodimus trusted him, so could he. "You know, Ratchet gets worried every time you overindulge in your meditational aid." 

Drift laughed softly and sat down on Megatron's berth uninvited, clearly a bit out of it but stable enough to make it over without much difficulty. "Sorry about just showing up like this; I have overrides as part of my security clearance. Don't worry, I don't abuse it. And I don't abuse my meditational aids either, it's a day off today, like you said. Ratchet doesn't know what I’ve been up to yet, but he'll probably find out when I meet up with him once he's done with whatever he's doing with First Aid. So, y'know, don't be an Ultra Magnus about this, I want to tell you a thing while I can still parse matters within this realm." 

As he was talking, Drift had slowly (and likely unconsciously) began to spread out on the berth, slumping over a bit to lean on the end of it, his legs tucked up a bit as though he was attempting to sit to meditate but in reality just sprawling out in a somewhat disorganised way, one knee suddenly pulled up nearly to his chin in an effort to remain relatively upright. Instead of being sad, as it would have been in the past, Megatron found it to be a rather comical sight; Such a skilled, refined, and powerful mech ending up as what Swerve's collection of human media generally referred to as a hippie. 

It would have incensed Megatron not that long ago, but he now appreciated Drift's commentary when he was around to provide it, despite the perpetually vaguely religious undertones of repentance and salvation and Spectralist colour analysis that pervaded nearly everything Drift had to say, to him at least. He was proud of Drift for being one of his few surviving generals, and perhaps the only one who ever stabilised and truly improved themselves in the end. 

Drift embodied what the actual Decepticon goal had been; Self-improvement, self-actualisation, achieving beyond class distinction, refusing to be a write-off or failure or lost cause no matter the circumstances. In a way, he was proud of Drift, although he knew that anything Drift had ultimately become was in spite of his time with the Decepticons, and not because of them. 

Once again, Megatron chose to brush over darker thoughts that threatened to bubble up along those lines, a constant battle, and instead grabbed his data pad and began to write before he forgot the lines he had formulated after having witnessed Rodimus' performance through the view port a moment ago. He sat on the opposite end of the berth, giving Drift the space to sprawl out a bit more as his meditational aid undoubtedly continued to take full effect. 

There was a brief moment of casual silence between the two, only the sound of Megatron's gentle taps on the data pad filling the air around them. Soon, the peace was mildly interrupted when Drift leaned his head up on one hand, elbow dangerously close to missing the end of the berth entirely, and started to speak again.

"I feel like I'm compelled to inform you how your aura is so... healthy now. I mean Ratchet has your medical stuff but you know he hates this, he hates all my Spectralist talk and I'm not mad at him, I get it, I think he's mad at Primus because of the war. But you know. I think it matters when someone's aura changes. It means someone really has made progress, made that change happen somewhere right in the core of their spark. You were all danger and fear and stress and sorrow before. Such loud colours all around you, back when you first got here. You were nervous. You... Almost gave up, I think. Correct me if I'm wrong." Megatron said nothing. "But now, you're all blues and silvers... There's still some hard colours in there, close against your armour, like compact little blurry stripes, almost. But I'm happy for you. I'm happy for Rodimus. I'm happy I'm not the only one who can recover. Are you happy? I think I'm happy. I love Ratchet. If this ever ends, not that we want it to end, but if it does we're going to open a clinic somewhere. He's been teaching me some stuff." Drift seemed to have a sudden moment of self-awareness, blinking his optics on and off before having the presence of mind to look a bit sheepish. "Sorry. I talk a lot when I'm like this. It's peaceful though, now… Not desperate. I'm happy people like us can be happy." 

The faintest Rodion accent had gradually entered his speech, likely an effect of whatever he had taken setting him at ease enough to not self-correct, or perhaps he just couldn't notice in his current state. Perhaps it was a sign of how relaxed he now felt around him, a fascinating development if so. But Megatron had the grace to make a point of not mentioning it. On occasion, after a fine engex at Swerve's, his Tarnish-Kaon accent made an appearance despite centuries of carefully practiced elocution for the sake of speaking to the masses. Everyone has a past. Not all of it can be fully erased. 

Cyclonus embraced his Tetrahexian accent, old and severe as it was, but Cyclonus also had a fair measure of pride. Drift and Megatron had very little pride in their pasts, or where they had come from. It had spelled mostly hardship for them, which at least made it easier for Megatron to relate to Drift's struggles in life, to some degree. 

And perhaps it helped him better understand why Drift was now sitting here, processor dizzy, rambling a bit from a place of kindness so honest it was nearly inconceivable after centuries of conflict and endless difficulty. This kind of openness had been rare for too long; Megatron was still unsure of how to react to it without sounding stiff, so he elected to remain quiet and allow Drift to go on if he so pleased. It wasn't so distracting that he wanted him out of his and Rodimus' room quite yet; Drift had seen it plenty of times when Rodimus bought him over for "amica stuff", which mostly consisted of trying out new paint stencils on each other. 

But as far as his own friendship with Drift went, it was rare for them to be alone together like this; Typically things were so out of control on board the Lost Light that they were often only in contact for command meetings before they had to split up to cope with some new challenge. 

But not today. Today was a day off, for writing, or comet surfing, or accidentally-on-purpose getting processor fried enough to potentially contact spirits in another realm. 

Drift finally lolled his head back a bit, looking past Megatron (or perhaps through him) before smiling wide, glancing towards the view port again. Megatron didn't follow the gaze as he was halfway through a poem, Pride of Nyon's Memory, which was very important to get finished as it was for a very important person. 

"You're very pensive, Megatron. I had always heard about that, y'know, that you were like this, but it was always hard to imagine for some reason. But I think I get it now. I can see it. I can also see something you'd like to know about, currently happening outside. I mean, happening now in this physical realm; It lasts forever in some others as we emit unseen energies which remain situated yet dispersed between perceptible folds in existence around us forever, like an atomic memory of..."

Megatron ignored Drift's dazed mumbling as it grew increasingly esoteric, instead opting to return to the view port in favour of investigating whatever Drift had spotted in what was likely going to be his last somewhat coherent thought for a good while. 

Outside the ship, Rodimus continued to flit around between comets, ever so slightly more subdued than before as his energon reserves were sure to be low enough by now to be sending alerts through his processor to refuel soon, but that didn't stop him from putting on a final show before his inevitable return to the ship's access port. 

As Megatron watched, Rodimus was no longer surfing per-se, but was rather dancing on his now slowly gliding board between celestial bodies, the moon behind him having more light cast upon it now than it had earlier owing to Caltrex Seven's fairly rapid planetary rotations. 

Rodimus glowed, this time in the solar light as opposed to being outlined by his flames against the black of space, arms twisting over his helm and hips gently swaying without losing his footing, not dancing to the rhythm of any music but rather to the rhythm of his spark, the rapid cycling of energy tangible between their bond. 

Megatron messaged him, unable to stifle his concern any longer despite the beauty before him. "Rodimus, as much as I find myself appreciating your elaborate display, your fuel must be running low. Return to the air lock for reception on board immediately. I have something special for you." 

He watched as Rodimus casually played the message to himself while bringing his gliding to an even more controlled and casual speed, still smiling before his eyes flared wide and a rather manic look crossed his face, sparking concern in Megatron's mind.

"What's wrong?" 

"Is that Drift? Do I hear Drift in the background? Why is he in there? Are you--What are you doing?!?" 

Megatron sighed. Apparently Drift was still mumbling in the background, which he himself had tuned out, yet it evidently picked up perfectly clearly over the comms line. 

"Drift has taken too much of his meditational substance in his effort to seek enlightenment during the break for repairs and down time. I will be paging Ratchet shortly to come retrieve him."

No longer able to see Rodimus as he was undoubtedly now approaching the Lost Light to re-board after a short automatic decontamination cycle, he received a short return message: 

"No, don't contact Ratchet yet. I have an idea. It's not gonna be mean or weird or anything, it's not fair to pick on Drift when he's like this, but I think we might get Ratchet’s sirens to go off before he kills us if we play it right.” 

Megatron smiled at the mischievous tone before marking the message as received and confirming that he'd be meeting Rodimus at the air lock shortly, electing to save any potential plotting for when they were face to face again. 

Drift peeked up from his now completely prone position on the corner of the berth, optics somewhat dimmer than usual owing to his sedated state, an aimless grin plastered across otherwise totally relaxed features. Even his finials seemed less stiff than usual, somehow. 

"Was that Rodimus? Had to be. Did you see his aura? I didn't look too hard, I promise. Those colours are for you. I did look though, I mean, it was pretty. Y'know, I can teach you how to see the colours if you didn't see them, I'm sure he looked nice even without them but with them, you can see it."

Megatron couldn't help asking. "See what?" 

"How much he loves you."


End file.
